


Nougat

by Arsenic



Series: Discipline and Punish [56]
Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prison, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2020-03-29 23:29:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19030147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Frank's home.  The information on stuff Frank would probably have upon being released was given to me by Belladonalin, who is a) awesome, and b) has been a MAJOR help in this endeavor.





	Nougat

Bob asked, "You like blini?"

"Um, maybe?" Frank asked.

"Kinda like crepes, but um, sorta crackerish."

"Sounds good," Frank said, and didn't admit that he'd actually never had crepes, either. It was food that wasn't mass made and that he didn't have to cook, so he really couldn't imagine having a huge problem with it.

"You can put lots of sour cream on it," Bob said.

"How do you know I like sour cream?"

"It's messy," Bob said and slipped off into the kitchen. Mikey laughed a little. It was the coolest fucking thing Frank had ever heard.

Mikey said, "C'mon, I wanna show you our room," and Frank followed him. The room wasn't all that large, but it had a double bed, a nice sized window and involved the possessive pronoun "our". Mikey showed him the drawers in the dresser that he'd saved for Frank, and the half of the closet that was for him. Mikey blushed as he looked at the walls, which were mostly covered in Gerard's drawings and advertisements for Fall Out Boy and other bands. "Hope you don't mind."

Frank rather liked it. It was _Mikey_ , Mikey all around him. His eyes strayed to the nightstand next to what was clearly Mikey's side of the bed. It had a somewhat retro lamp and a small alarm clock and a framed picture of Frank at his high school graduation. Mikey followed where his eyes were and he said, clearly somewhat embarrassed, "It was the most recent picture your mom could find of you."

"Jesus." Frank was pretty sure they'd taken some at his nineteenth birthday, before his life had gone to pieces. He'd been pretty drunk that night, though, which was probably why he hadn't shared.

Mikey smiled a little. "Wait till you see the ones we have of you in the hall."

"Just tell me I'm not naked in any of them. I'd like to have some small bit of dignity left to me when I meet all your non-convict friends."

Mikey stilled. "What?"

"I just meant--"

"I _know_ what you meant, I was in that place too, and they can fucking fuck the fuck off if they wanna think less of you for it."

"Mikey--"

"Frank," Mikey said, and it wasn't that Mikey had never been firm with him, had never pushed back--although it had taken a while--but this was different, this was a Mikey who, at least in this moment, knew he was right. That was novel. Frank couldn't help himself, he moved in for a kiss. He hadn't been invited and he would never have done that before, but Mikey was saying "Frank," like maybe he could take it, so Frank tried. Mikey pulled him in close, didn't even so much as tense, just dove in and responded. Frank was having fantasies of this going on _forever_ until there was loud barking and a wet nose and a fairly powerful shove at his legs that sent him flailing despite Mikey's grip.

"Mizzy, no!" Mikey said, stamping his foot and glowering at the dog. Mizzy whined and slunk down, her tail between her legs.

Tommy appeared at the door. "Sorry, I wasn't paying attention to where she was."

"Not your fault," Mikey said. "She has to learn." He pointed to Frank and said, "Go say sorry."

Frank watched as Mizzy actually came toward him. He reached out his hand and put it where she could sniff. He said, "It's all right, girl."

She checked him out, nose to hand, then stomach, face, knees. Finally she must have decided that he smelled right, since she laid a long lick up his right cheek. He scratched the back of her head and put his face next to hers in order to whisper, "I won't hurt him. Not anymore. Promise."

She huffed, which he took as, "Yeah, we'll see." Smart dog.

Mikey asked, "Hey, Tommy would you--"

Tommy called, "Goody, hey," and Mizzy went obediently. Tommy grinned at her.

"Your mom dropped your bag off with Phyllis downstairs," Mikey said, motioning toward the bag on the bed. "You wanna put anything away?"

Frank opened the bag. There wasn't much in there. His fifty dollars worth of release money, Gerard's highly illicit prison-iPod, a few pictures his mom had brought him, his prison slippers, and every single last one of Gerard's drawings and Mikey's letters, even the ones that made him a little sad. Mikey let him pull out each of the items. When he got to the slippers, Mikey said, "I have the perfect place for those."

He opened up the closet and inside, Frank could see Mikey's issued pair. Frank said, "They're comfy," knowing that that really had nothing to do with why either of them would choose to keep anything from that place. They _were_ comfy, though, bizarrely the most comfortable pair of slippers Frank had ever called his own.

"Yeah," Mikey said, and lined Frank's up neatly next to his. He then opened the drawer in the nightstand next to his bed and took out a box. It was a plain thin cardboard box, the kind typing paper might have come in. He opened it up and nudged it far enough that Frank would be able to see from where he was standing. Frank could see his handwriting.

"Every one?" Frank asked.

Mikey nodded. Frank touched his own pile lightly. "Room in that drawer for a second batch?"

"I can make room."

 

*

Frank was trying to stay awake, really he was, but he'd eaten his weight in blinis, which, as it turned out, could be covered in all kinds of crap, most of which seemed to freak Gerard out, but which the rest of them were perfectly fine slopping atop the wafer-ish pancake-like _things_. And he hadn't slept well the night before, his mind full of screaming need to get to Mikey, and today had been sort of long and filled with two new people, which hadn't been such a big deal before, Frank could remember, but right now every sound felt sort of loud in his head, every touch just this side of intense. With Mikey, it was awesome. With everything else, he could have foregone the experience.

Mikey asked, "Hey, you okay?"

Frank blinked at him. Mikey's lips quirked. "Yeah, I'm kinda tired, too." He looked over at Bob, "If you leave the stuff in the sink, I'll--"

"Go to bed," Bob said, flatly. Mikey opened his mouth, possibly to argue about something, but then just shook his head.

They went to the bedroom, where Frank asked, "You have an extra t-shirt?" He was going to go to his mom's and pick up his old clothes as soon as he got a chance, but for the moment, pajamas weren't something he had on him.

Mikey said, "I went and got some stuff from your mom's before you came home," and laid out some flannel pants and a t-shirt that Frank remembered from high school. It was a little dispiriting that it looked like it was still going to dwarf him.

"Hey, um, I know you're tired--"

Frank was about to say something, because there were certain things he couldn't deal with finding out, not tonight, but Mikey continued, "But would you mind, um, Gerard says, I mean, we don't talk about this a lot, okay, you shouldn't think that, but he and Bob, they take showers together a lot because it's _private_ you know, I mean, not even that we would have to do anything, I just want, you know, privacy. With you." Mikey tilted his head, got a little bit of a spark in his eye. "And hot water."

Frank just nodded, words really, really weren't going to come out of his mouth. Mikey grinned. "I'll um. I'll just run the water, you can come whenever you--" but Frank just followed him out of the room, into the bathroom.

It was a small bathroom. Thankfully there was a sink in a counter rather than a lone-standing structure, which allowed the toiletries of four (now five) guys to fit. There was a medicine cabinet and a cabinet below the sink. The shower was a tub combination with a shower curtain that had Ferraris on it. Frank asked, "Bob?"

"Gerard, but, yeah, essentially," Mikey told him.

"Awesome."

Steam filled the room pretty quickly despite the fan that Mikey had flipped on before running the water. It was sort of the best thing ever. Frank hadn't taken a shower in a room that actually steamed up in five years. He slipped out of his jeans and his hoodie as Mikey did and the two of them sort of scrambled in, both laughing at everything and nothing all at once. Mikey pushed him gently under the spray and Frank pulled Mikey down, kissed him even though it meant not breathing for a bit. He pulled back, through the stream and said softly, "Lemme wash your hair."

Mikey's hair wasn't nearly as long as it had been when they'd last seen each other--thankfully--but it was soft even wet and Mikey made sweet noises when Frank was sudsing him up, like Frank was doing something right. When he relinquished Mikey's head--he held on longer than probably necessary--Mikey just switched them up and returned the favor. Mikey's fingers were still long and gentle and perfect. Frank had missed every part of Mikey, but his fingers had been way up in the list of top ten things he desperately needed to feel again. They washed up quickly after that, mostly because they were running out of hot water, but even that was sort of funny, something that they were doing together, and it made it nice when they stepped out and Mikey wrapped the biggest towel Frank had ever seen around his shoulders. It was a _robe_ on Frank.

"I stole one of Bob's," Mikey explained.

"I'm telling," Frank said.

"Oh yeah, I bet."

Frank just whipped Mikey's towel off of him and spent a few long seconds staring while he rubbed Mikey's hair dry. Mikey said, "Cheater," and took his turn.

 

*

Mikey still wore pajamas that covered his legs down to past his feet, his arms down past the hands. Frank had wondered, on occasion, if Gerard did the same thing. Tommy didn't, and it was one of the few things about Tommy that actually made Frank smile when he thought about it.

Mikey wore the pajamas, but when Frank crawled under the blankets next to him, he didn't make so much as a noise as Frank wrapped his arm over Mikey's hips, dipped his fingers below the waistband of his pants, over the scarred skin of his lower back. Frank whispered, "Sorry I'm so tired."

"Don't care," Mikey said, tucking himself as tightly as he could against Frank. "You're here."

Frank wanted to say something to that, but he couldn't remember what. He couldn't do anything except fall asleep to the even beat of Mikey's heart.


End file.
